Dilaudid
by Adamantium Arrow
Summary: Reid's finally rid of the troublesome addiction, but the cravings still come. When the team is assigned a case involving the drug, will it trigger more addiction? Better than the summary (depressed!Reid, addicted!Reid). Reid centric. Morgan/Garcia, Will/JJ. Rating for delusions, depression and addiction.
1. Chapter 1

_**First Criminal Minds story, so bear with me. This is set in no particular season, just somewhere in the middle of when Emily Prentiss is on Criminal Minds and Reid was using dilaudid. It will sometimes be a little OOC, so again, bear with me.**_

_****DISCLAIMER****_

_**I own nothing of Criminal Minds, and all characters belong to CBS. Dilaudid belongs to whoever created it (I'll get back to you on that), and I only own the plot. The characters are NOT mine, and this will be the only disclaimer in the story as I don't wish to bore you.**_

~FANFICTION~

"Heads up, we got a case." Morgan's voice could be heard in the bullpen as Garcia entered holding a bunch of files, placing one on everyone's desk. It was the usual day in the BAU; case, conference room, go and solve the case, come back, sleep, repeat. Morgan sighed as he flicked through the files, taking in the case details before heading over to the coffee to speak to Emily, who was looking a little grumpier than usual, going through a box of her favourite sweetener; splenda.

"Emily, we got a case. Conference room, ten minutes." He handed her the file, which she accepted. Taking care not to spill any splenda onto the file, she simultaneously began reading it and making her coffee, mumbling something about Garcia, horoscopes and superstitious idiots. Hiding a laugh, Morgan started making his way to the conference room, joining Garcia, who was setting up her presentation. Reid was sitting at the table, reading something or the other, and Rossi was busy speaking to JJ, who was scrawling down some notes. Emily arrived soon after, carrying her mug of splenda-laced coffee.

"Strauss is cutting budgets again." Hotch's voice was heard at the door, carrying his own file. He always began the meetings without a greeting, Morgan mused.

"What? Again?" Reid's indignant words were slightly angrier than his usual mellow tone. In fact, Morgan noticed he was a bit more agitated than he was last time they cut budgets.

"Hope they don't take away the jet." Rossi said, dubiously. "Its' not gonna be good for fast responses to cases."

"Or the coffee. I'd leave." Reid put in, taking a sip from the said drink.

"What, they'd only save about fifty bucks a week." Rossi shot back jokingly, knowing full well exactly how much of the thin bitter liquid the team consumed on a daily basis, and that was a lot even without the extra overtime they had all been putting in.

"Okay, let's focus on the case at hand. We can worry about the budget cuts later." Hotch said, handing the remote to Garcia, motioning for her to start. The team quietened as Garcia cleared her throat and began speaking.

"Alright, your new case is in Cleveland, Ohio. Four men, all found dead in their homes. All of them were 6"1 and had brown hair. Light brown to be exact. They all had high concentrations of opiods in their blood, and after the Medical Examiner's first preliminary examination, she determined that they had never been using before. Also, all of them had ligature marks on their wrists and ankles, but in their homes there were no signs of struggling or drugs. Andrew Halter, James Young, Alexander Worth and Randall Holt." She pressed the button on her remote. All of the men were lying on the floor, parallel to the front door with their eyes closed. "The TOD was 6pm, on respective Fridays, once a week. Obviously since Friday is once a week, but back onto point. The first murder was a month ago, so that puts the approximate time of death for the next victim as 5 days and fourteen hours, if my calculations are correct." Garcia said, scanning her file for the details and consulting her watch.

"Opiods? Garcia, do you know exactly what kind? It might help us determine who the unsub is." Emily piped up from her seat, riffling through the folder.

"Opiods? Yes, the medical examiner put it here somewhere." She said, scanning through the file again. "Oh, there were very high concentrations of dilaudid." Garcia replied to Emily's question, not noticing Reid stiffening. The action hadn't gone unnoticed by Hotch's careful eye, and he made a mental note to inquire.

"Alright, if they're no more questions. Wheels up in twenty." Hotch said, gathering his equipment and leaving, closely followed by Rossi, Morgan and Emily, draining her cup of coffee as she exited. Garcia left soon after, mumbling about tech support and Kevin Lynch. JJ noticed that Reid hadn't moved, and went over to him.

"Hey, Spence, we gotta go." She said quietly, placing a hand on his shoulder, pulling him out of his trance.

"Oh what? Okay, see you later." He muttered, picking up his messenger bag and files and leaving the room, JJ still standing by the seat.

As JJ headed to her office to get her go bag, her mind was on Reid. He seemed a little off somehow, not the rambling genius he usually was but distracted, in the sense that something was bothering him. Writing it off as nerves and sleep deprivation (which they all suffered from, some more often than the others), she headed out to the jet, where the team were already present. She seated herself opposite Emily, before poking about in her go bag and extracting a bag of Cheetos; her favourite snack. Morgan and Emily shared a smile as JJ attacked the treat, talking about something humorous that had happened a while ago. JJ ignored them, simply crunching her coveted treats.

On the other side of the jet, it was far more quiet. Hotch and Rossi were quietly conversing about the case and Reid was sitting quietly with his eyes closed as the plane took off. Morgan noticed JJ casting him some concerned glances, but didn't say anything, writing it off as sleep deprivation, just like JJ did. God knew that they all needed a break; solving case after case took a lot out of them, and he wasn't surprised if they would burn out soon. Even Hotch (who was basically invincible) could only last so long without a break. Heck, even Rossi was losing some of his usual sassy humour and Garcia was far less perky than she usually was. The difference was quite large, and Morgan missed the old rambunctious Garcia. That was what made her special, and he disliked Kevin heartily at that moment, that he got to spend time with his baby girl whilst he was stuck on another case. Typical life, he thought. Just typical.

"This job does not pay enough." Emily remarked from her file, looking at the crime scene pictures. "Honestly, if they keep cutting budgets we'll be doing this for free." She added darkly, turning the page, thinking of her rapidly decreasing paycheck.

"Tell me about it," Morgan replied. "And this won't be the last budget cut we have, if I know the higher ups."

"Well, we'll be landing soon, I better go wake Reid." JJ said, excusing herself from the group, walking over to Reid, who was tossing and turning a little in his sleep.

~FANFICTION~

Reid was tied to a chair, gagged and bound. He gulped, knowing exactly where he was. The feel of the ratty floor on his bare feet was enough. He felt stinging wounds on his feet, they were red and raw and completely neglected. His brown hair was matted, and his face bruised and beaten. And the needle marks. He knew if he looked down, he would see the marks, the marks he both hated and loved, the marks he wanted to forget and remember at the same time. Feel the drug coursing through him, alleviating his pain. It was so easy; it felt so good, such a small price of pain for the huge benefit of the high that came. It felt like floating; everything was suddenly okay. When he felt the tourniquet tighten, and the rough hands inserting the needle in, he felt so happy, so good somehow, as the point of the needle pierced his vein. Feeling the dilaudid flow through his veins felt so good in such a sick way, like a fire burning through him, the inner relief caressing him, almost motherly and protective-

"Spence. Spence. Time to get up." JJ's words pulled him out of his dream with a start. He looked down on his arm; instead of the tourniquet there was a hand, instead of the needle there was a file.

"Oh, sorry." He apologised, reality coming back to him. He stretched groggily, realising he wasn't where he was in the dream. Oddly enough, he had come to enjoy the dream, the high that came with the drug, the obvious- no. He was glad it was over. But he wasn't. But he was. But he wasn't. He couldn't make up his mind on what he felt, and he sure as hell didn't want to know.

"Get a grip." He told himself, as everyone filed off the plane. A stout woman, about five foot four in height wearing a uniform was standing a few meters away from the runway.

"Officer Angela Simmons, Cleveland PD." She introduced herself, shaking JJ's hand.

"I'm Jennifer Jareau, we spoke on the phone. This is SSA Prentiss, Morgan, Rossi, Hotchner and Dr. Reid." JJ introduced the BAU.

"Nice to meet you, Detective. Prentiss, you and Morgan to the latest crime scene. Rossi, your working victimology. Reid, your headed to the precinct to work a geographical profile. I'll be headed to the morgue to speak with the ME." Hotch allocated the roles.

"Detective Jones will escort you to the latest crime scene." Simmons introduced the team to a taller man, who after saying his greetings, left with Prentiss and Morgan to the crime scene, whereas Reid, Rossi, Hotch and Simmons piled into the cruiser that was standing by.

~FANFICTION~

As the cruiser cruised (no pun intended) onto the highways, Rossi and Simmons were having an animated conversation about previous cases, whilst Hotch flicked through the ME's report to better ground him on the information at hand. Reid was looking out of the window, his eyes closed and face taut, sometimes rubbing his eyes as if something was paining him. He remained oblivious to the ever more concerned glances Hotch was shooting his way, and didn't even seem to notice. Reid was still in his trance-like state when the cruiser pulled up to the station.

"Reid. Reid." Hotch said softly, before getting louder. "Reid!" He exclaimed, pulling Reid out of his reverie, feeling very dizzy at the sudden shout. He looked up blearily, hating how the cruiser kept spinning. Cars weren't supposed to look like that, no. And why were there two Hotches?!

"Oh, sorry." He said, getting out of the cruiser quickly. Feeling another sudden dizzy spell coming on, he put his hand out to steady himself, gripping the edge of the car door with an iron grip. Hotch looked at him in concern as he walked to the other side of the cruiser.

"Excuse me, Officer, may we have a minute?" Hotch questioned Angela who was looking at Reid with undisguised concern. She quickly left, after shooting them another worried look.

"Reid. Are you alright?" Hotch asked softly, putting a hand out to steady his teammate. Rossi was halfway across the parking lot, but saw the two loitering and came over to investigate, his jolly face a little less jolly.

"Hotch, I'm fine. Just a little bit dizzy. I'll be okay till we get back home." He said, letting go of the cruiser shakily, making his was across the lot slowly.

"What's the matter with the guy?" Rossi asked Hotch as they walked into the precinct, one eye on Reid.

"I don't know, he just said he was dizzy. He said he was fine, and his judgement is unlike anyone's I've ever seen." Hotch concluded, getting a blast of cool air as the door to the precinct opened. They were ushered to a small room on the side of the main offices, with a whiteboard, table and coffee maker. As Reid began unpacking the files on the table, Rossi put the coffee on and Hotch set up the calling system with Emily and Morgan, before heading to the morgue.


	2. Chapter 2

**_DISCLAIMER: I own none of the characters, I only own the plot and any other OCs that I have created. This will be the only disclaimer in the whole fic to avoid confusion, so if you don't see this, please do not assume I own the characters. If I owned Criminal Minds, Gideon would not have died._**

~FANFICTION~

Emily and Morgan arrived outside the scene, pulling gloves on. It was the average crime scene (as average as those come by), crime scene tape, officers, bumbling CSI squads and a body. As Morgan and Emily flashed IDs and ducked under the tape, they soon realised it was no average scene. A fully clothed male was lying parallel to the front door, eyes closed. One sleeve was rolled up, and had many needle punctures in it. Oddly enough, there was no blood other than the one drop, and he looked asleep almost. Only the stillness and the fact that there were two investigators betrayed the fact that it was a crime scene, as well as the CSI and police sirens. Nothing had been moved; the house looked untouched, or as untouched as an occupied house looked. It was even more organised than Reid's apartment, and that was saying something. The cream walls were spotless; the wooden floors immaculate and dust free. All the surfaces were shiny and ornaments were arranged tastefully on the mantelpiece. The soft lighting from the windows and light fixtures

"Well that's an addict if I saw one." Morgan pointed out expertly, squatting to inspect the body. "See, these needle marks are old scars, but this one is where the unsub injected the dilaudid." He said, pointing to a much redder bump, skimming his fingers over the healed sores, hating how many marks were present.

"So what your saying is, they were using before the murder?" Emily inquired, getting down to look as well, confused. Nobody had mentioned any of this back at Quantico, so it was a shock when she found that they might have previously been using.

"That's a theory, but if the other bodies turn out to be the same, I think we just figured out the pattern. The murderer could be the seller of the drug, a revenge killing? One is plausible but four men? That looks to me like a serial." He said darkly, continuing to inspect whereas Emily chose to look around, scouting out the various rooms in the spacious house.

"Very rich, to be able to afford this stuff." She remarked, looking at an antique table. "That's gotta be at least twenty grand. I could never afford this stuff." She said slightly wistfully, looking around for signs of needles or drugs. She couldn't find any, which was depressing as she had hoped to get some fingerprints off of them, if she found them. That might speed the case up, and she was overtired from previous cases like the others, and really wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed and sleep for sixteen hours.

"Yeah, you've got to be pretty rich to afford dilaudid in large quantities, if you were using. Judging by the amount of marks, this guy was using a lot, and that stuff isn't cheap. You can only get a certain amount before you need to resort to the black market, and its pretty pricey there." He pointed out, looking at the lavishly furnished house with a little bit of jealousy. Lucky man, but look what happened to him. Drugs, money and a rich lifestyle, the perfect recipe for an addict.

"Odd, nothing seems to have been moved or taken." She said, noticing the perfectly organised cabinets and the untouched furniture. There was no sign of any drug use, contradicting Morgan's statement about the victim being an addict. But there were some more possibilities, and she was keen to explore before she made any assumptions that could jeopardize the case. Too many times she had seen cases go haywire due to a preliminary assumption influencing the outcome, and she didn't want any of that on her record.

"Alright, lets get it to Hotch." He said, getting up and dialling Hotch as they exited. "Hotch, we think we found the pattern."

~FANFICTION~

Hotch entered the morgue, feeling the chilly air from the air conditioner on his face as he entered. He was greeted by a tall woman, wearing a surgical gown with her hair in a net.

"Doctor Mary Allan, Chief Medical Examiner." She said, looking at a file. "And you must be Supervisory Special Agent Aaron Hotchner?" She asked with a smile.

"Yes I am." He replied brusquely, which she took as her cue to show the bodies.

"Alright, this is the first victim, second third and fourth respectively." She indicated to the tables. "The cause of death was an overdose of hydromorphone, specifically dilaudid." She said, leading Hotch to the victims.

"Can you determine how much was in their system that killed them?" Hotch asked questioningly. The amount of dilaudid used could bring clues about the unsub; like how rich he or she was, and the amount of money spent on the dilaudid. That would be key to delivering the profile.

"Yes, there was about 100mg of the drug in their systems. Its not entirely accurate, but it's a very high amount. As you can see, they died swiftly, as the blood had yet to clot at the needle mark." She said, pointing. Hotch remembered what Emily and Derek had told him, and decided to inquire.

"Can you tell if any of them had been using dilaudid previously?" He asked.

"Very good question, I was about to point out that all of them had quite the amount of needle marks on their forearms. The wounds are quite old, probably at least four months long. It varies with each victim, but I will send you the results as soon as I can." She replied smoothly, answering his unasked question.

"Thank you. If you find anything else, please contact me." He handed her his card as he exited the morgue. Spotting Simmons, he waved his hand, alerting her. As they headed back to the precinct, he informed her of what the ME had told him.

"So she confirms that they were using before?" She inquired disbelievingly. None of that had come up, and that was news to her.

"Yes. When my team and I meet back at the precinct, we can begin to work on the profile. Our technical analyst Penelope Garcia should be waiting for us on webcam." He said, getting out of the cruiser. He was greeted by a cup of coffee from JJ and a witty greeting from Garcia.

"Hello, mon amis, how may I be of service? Because my fingers are greased lightning." She said, her hands at the ready.

"Alright Garcia, cross reference credit cards of all our victims, try and find a place where they all met." Hotch commanded.

"Also, Garcia, could you also cross check the credit cards with purchases made online or at a store for dilaudid? That could be where the killer is finding his victims." Reid piped up from the map, where he was working the geographical profile. He rubbed his temples tiredly, trying to get rid of the upcoming headache that he felt coming.

"Got it, Boy Genius." She said, keying furiously.

"Hey baby girl, do you mind checking any sales of dilaudid, in both the black market and pharmaceutical chains? Probably a dosage of at least 400mg, if not more. Thanks mama." Morgan said, flashing her a smile, revealing his white teeth.

"You are very welcome, chocolate thunder. Now I will work my magic and see you in une momento." Garcia said, pressing the disconnect button on her switch. Cracking her knuckles, she began to work.

"Reid, have you established a comfort zone yet?" Hotch inquired, turning to the man.

"Yes, I have. I have determined that the unsub should live around here." He pointed to a squared off area in the centre of the map, in the middle of all the crime scenes. "His comfort zone should extend to about a mile from either direction." He said, drawing the corresponding circle on the map.

"This area is strictly middle class, with a high percentage of white males that have a respectable job. Steady income, and a few doctors and pharmaceutical workers live in the area." Emily stated, flicking through one of the files that Simmons had provided.

"Prentiss, get Garcia to cross reference people who have the income to purchase that high amount of dilaudid in a short amount of time to people who live in the approximate region. Look for people who recently emptied their life savings, and gone through a divorce or loss of family, that's the trigger to start using dilaudid. When that's done, we'll be ready to give the profile." Hotch commanded, as Prentiss began relaying the commands to Garcia. After three minutes on the phone, Prentiss turned back to Hotch.

"She's got that going, she's just running the codes. She'll call us back in ten." Prentiss spoke up, getting off her chair to help herself to some more coffee.

"Alright, that's plenty of time to give the profile. Angela, assemble your officers. We're ready to give the profile."

~FANFICTION~

_**A/N: Chapter Two is finished! I'm excited to see some feedback in the review box *hint hint*. (You don't have to of course, but it would really make my day if you did). Plus, I give you a virtual chimichanga if you do :)**_

_**The reviews and favourites on the first chapter really made my day; thank you all so much.**_

_**Also if there are mistakes in my work, I'm an un-betaed (is that even a word haha) writer, so I'd appreciate it if you'd bare with me.**_


	3. Chapter 3

"According to the psychological profile we produced, you are looking for a white male, mid thirties. He will have a steady middle class job, and he will have recently gone through a divorce or loss of family, which was the trigger for his killings. He is an addict himself, probably selling and using the dilaudid. But its expensive, and he will be growing desperate as his money runs out, but will keep killing nonetheless." Morgan announced, looking up from his seat.

"He will be living in this area, and his potential victims could span to around here." Reid said, pointing at the map, indicating the various locations as the officers took notes, speaking the addresses of the various pins, ribbons and post its on the board.

"His behaviour changes; calm and collected to crazy rages. Look for a man who has serious mood swings. He once had a large circle of friends, but his addiction pushed them away." Prentiss continued, looking at her case notes in her hand.

"If you have any more ideas or questions, please speak to one of us. Thank you for your time." Hotch said, returning to the room that the BAU kept their resources, where Rossi was talking to Garcia, the tech geek keeping one eye on her computer (presumably loading some software or another) as she spoke to the older man.

"Garcia has an idea where they met." Rossi said, turning the computer to face Hotch, revealing Garcia's smiling face, which was currently twisted with concentration as her fingers flew across the keyboard, her other hand holding a mug of tea.

"Okay, so after I cross referenced the credit cards, all of the four men made purchases in the same coffee shop in the same thirty minute time window, every Friday." Garcia said, with a wide smile, reading off her screen as the data loaded.

"Can you check what fixture it was they could have been attending?" Hotch asked, business-like as usual.

"Already ahead of you. Across the road is a program for drug recovery. Specifically dilaudid, to be exact." Garcia said, keying furiously.

"We've found the unsub's hunting ground." Hotch said, turning to the team with a steely expression. They weren't surprised; they'd worked with Hotch enough.

"How are we going to know which is the unsub? There are quite a lot of members." Morgan pointed out, coming into the webcam view.

"Already ahead of you, hot stuff." Garcia said smugly. "I cross referenced all the members with the potential living area, and I came up with six hits. Four of which are in their mid thirties, and three of them are white males. They all fit the profile in some way, two more than others."

"Could you possibly check their job statuses? The unsub has a steady income." Emily piped up.

"You didn't even need to ask. The suspect pool is narrowed to two. As presumed." Garcia said, typing quickly, taking a sip of her ever-present cup of tea.

"Alright, check if one of them has suffered from a trauma, like losing a loved one. The time space should be about when the murders first began." Hotch said, not needing to consult the file.

"Okay, got it. Your looking for Andrew Roberts, and his address has been sent to your phones…now." Garcia said, tapping on the keyboard with her fluff-topped pen.

"Thanks, baby girl." Morgan said, flashing her his trademark million dollar grin.

"Stay safe, mon amis." Garcia said, breaking the connection. Hotch watched as the connection broke and Garcia's face faded out. Morgan bit his lip, feeling apprehensive. Every time they broke the connection, he wondered if it was the last time they would speak, and knowing his job, it could very well be.

"Suit up, we meet in the entrance in ten." Hotch said, exiting the room and not waiting for any response. Finishing off their coffees with varying speed, the others exited, presumably to get their weapons and Kevlar vests.

_~The unsub's home~_

"JJ, Rossi, take the back. Morgan, Emily, side door. Reid and I will take the front." Hotch said quietly, testing his com unit as he did so. Pulling their weapons out of their holsters, they silently crept towards the entrances, hearts beating fast. They never knew if this was the last time they'd kick down the doors, the last time they were ever to put a criminal to their place before their deaths. Many an agent had died during infiltration, and none of them wanted to be next. But it could happen. Their luck could run out.

On Hotch's countdown, the respective members kicked down their doors, each clattering to the floor with a hollow thud, the wood crashing onto the carpeted panels. Stepping over the debris, each member of the BAU went in, guns at the ready, alert. Bodies tense, they quickly and efficiently searched the house, looking for criminal presence.

~FANFICTION~

Entering through the back door, JJ and Rossi quickly searched the mudroom, as well as the garage, two of the most dangerous parts of the house. When those turned up empty, they rendezvoused with the others in the main hall, heading up the stairs. As the floorboard creaked under JJ's foot, Rossi motioned for her to go up, as he followed. The others would finish searching the ground floor and basement.

JJ stepped up the stairs softly, trying to keep noise at a minimum. The upstairs hall was a small corridor with three rooms, and they made a unanimous decision that she would take the right, Rossi the centre and Morgan (who had finished searching downstairs) the right. With the standard shout of "FBI!" JJ opened the door, her gun at the ready. Searching it quickly, she was about to give them the all clear when she felt a hand pull at her hair, twisting her into a pair of arms. She hadn't had any time to cry out, before she felt a stabbing pain in her right arm and a hand close over her lips.

As JJ fought to escape the arms that now had her in a chokehold, Morgan and Rossi begun to suspect something was up, since the two had already exchanged words but JJ had yet to exit. A cold dread creeping up in them, they both snuck up to the door, entering silently. Their jaws nearly fell open at the sight, JJ struggling, her vision rapidly blurring as the unsub squeezed his arm around her throat. Broken glass lay on the floor, a piece of it bloodstained. A long cut ran down the blonde woman's arm, red drops staining her shirt and the carpet below.

Morgan and Rossi reacted at the same time; Morgan twisting the unsub's arm into a painful lock as JJ's body fell limp into the capable arms of David Rossi, the lack of oxygen causing her to pass out, her body slumped in a dead faint. Morgan's muscle evenly matched the unsub's capability, and he quickly gained the upper hand, pinning him to the wall as he handcuffed him. As Rossi carried JJ down the stairs after the unsub and Morgan, he could hear the younger agent reading the man his rights.

As the unsub was ushered out by Morgan's muscled arms (sporting a black eye), Reid searched the house for some clues, and other evidence that would be used in the court case. Three caches of dilaudid were found hidden under a loose floorboard, so Reid slipped them into an evidence bag. Well two of them, the other one he emptied out and slid the vials into his pocket unobtrusively. He didn't want to at all; he had stayed clean for a while, but his hands made him. His left arm itched where the needle marks were, begging for more. Closing his eyes, he remembered the pure joy flooding through his entire body, warmth like he had never felt before, the drug coursing through his bloodstream like a fire. Suddenly, the dream couldn't do it for him anymore, and his hand inched towards his pocket that contained the vials, twitching as the fingers neared the coveted happiness.

Realising that he didn't have a needle, Reid tutted and sighed, putting the vial back into his pocket. Mainlining could wait a little longer; he had waited long enough, a few more hours could wait. Feeling a wild smile coming to his face, Reid quickly exchanged it for a poker face, trying not to look suspicious as he headed out to speak to the others, waving the evidence bag.

"Hey, guys, I found some of the drugs hidden in a loose floorboard." He announced, handing the bag to JJ. A slight frown crossed Hotch's face; he knew about Reid's prior experience with dilaudid, and it couldn't have been nice to re-experience that again, and knowing that he had struggled with addiction just made it so much worse.

"Thank you, Reid." He said, choosing not to question him if he had taken any, or been tempted. It wasn't any of his business, and it wasn't his duty to inquire as that wouldn't be appropriate, and they were all entitled to their own privacy anyways. He trusted Reid wouldn't do such an idiotic thing.

But oh, only if Hotch knew. Only if he knew.

~FANFICTION~

_**A/N: Dunnn dunnn dunnnnn... I think you know what comes next :)**_

_**I'd like to thank the people who followed/reviewed/favourited it really means a lot. When I saw the positive feedback it really made my day. Thank you XD**_


	4. Chapter 4

Shutting the door to the bathroom, Reid whipped out the needle that he had in his pocket. Pulling out the dilaudid, he watched as the clear liquid dribbled into the syringe. Tying a tourniquet with his belt, he eased the pointed object into his skin, feeling it break. A drop of blood appeared, and he pushed the plunger down, feeling the coveted substance trickle into his bloodstream. Sure, it might leave a mark, but it seemed such a small price to pay. One needle mark, for so much happiness? That was an easy yes, of course it was a yes, it was just such an amazing feeling. Reid knew it couldn't be good for him but it just felt so good, but so bad at the same time, a twisted beautiful mess that caught every part of him in a rollercoaster of ups and downs. He couldn't deny that he didn't love it, that would be a lie.

As the dilaudid trickled through his bloodstream, he felt the effects washing over him, like a breeze. The sensation of floating and happiness filled him, his worn thin face stretching into some resemblance of a smile, joy evident in the glassy brown eyes. True pain, horrible pain had left him, it was the best feeling. Not a care, no problem the world threw at him was too bad.

Craving more, Reid did something he had never done. Fishing the spent syringe out of the bin, he cracked open another vial, injecting it into his bloodstream with a harsh gasp. And another. And another. In his drugged state, he had some recollection of how bad it was, but he hadn't used in ages, and this was a compensation. Now, it wasn't a treat, but a frenzy that couldn't be ended, a compulsion. An impulsive decision he would later pay for. But damn the consequences, he thought, feeling the room sway a little.

Then a little more.

Then the light started swinging.

Then the room was sideways.

Blurry ceilings.

Then black spots.

And darkness.

_An abyss._

Reid lay on the floor, the syringe in his hand and bottles of dilaudid next to his unconscious body. But even during this state, his lips were stretched into a smile.

~FANFICTION~

It was hazy, and unclear, and Reid's dazed eyes couldn't see. Just empty halls and blank nameless faces, the rough carpet painful to his bruised feet. The chipping walls splintered off as his hand traced symbols, embedding itself under his fingernails. Needle marks littered his arms in varying degrees of healing, the effects of the drug overdose making Reid see stars, dancing in front of him in a beautiful mess. Brown eyes softened, dilated pupils glazed over, gazing into the distance, looking at nothing in particular. He had no trace of sadness in his eyes, only a far off look. Bittersweet flooded over him; it was so bad yet so good. Like the best treat and worst nightmare all rolled up into a sick heaven. He had longed for this, so damn much, and it was the best he had felt in a long time. For the first time, the pain was all alleviated, floating around in an abyss that he couldn't feel the hurt and agony that came with the job, the first time he was free from the haunting memories that his photographic mind couldn't forget.

JJ sat at the desk, a large mug of coffee in her hands. Having been given the all clear by the medics, she had returned to work, after changing her shirt of course, as it would go against the BAU clothing guidelines to go to work in a bloody ripped shirt. It would only work on Halloween, she mused, taking a sip of the bitter liquid that was laced with splenda. That stuff was disgusting; why would Emily even willingly put that in her drink? Chemicals and fake gross sugar, she would rather use actual sugar, or none at all. Precincts really did need to have a coffee store nearby, like the BAU office in Quantico. JJ's peaceful state was interrupted by Hotch running in.

"Has anyone seen Reid?" The older man asked, a little worried about the younger's wellbeing. It had been about two hours and everyone had basically recovered and were just milling about, either exchanging case notes or resting with a mug of coffee, but Reid had excused himself and disappeared an hour ago, and hadn't been seen since from what he could gather from everyone's

"No, why?" Morgan inquired sleepily, getting up. "What happened to him?" He asked Hotch quietly, not wanting to attract attention to their quiet conversing. Rossi noticed them talking quietly, but closed his eyes again, muttering something about night owls and him being too old to stay awake for that damn long.

"I don't know, we saw him an hour ago, but I haven't seen him since. I called his cell four times but there's been no answer." Hotch muttered, his lips barely moving.

"I'll go talk to JJ, and ask her." Morgan offered, as Hotch nodded in his thanks and went off, presumably to find Reid. As Hotch retreated, Morgan couldn't help but feel a small twinge of worry about the team's youngest member. It really wasn't like the kid to disappear, he mused. Reid was usually found talking to the officers, working the geographical profile or milling about with the others.

~FANFICTION~

As Morgan's search for Reid drew to a dead end, he decided to grab some coffee before reporting back to Hotch. He picked up the scalding cup a bit too quickly, making the dark liquid tip onto his bare skin, a red mark where the boiling drink made contact, staining the cuff of his shirt.

A curse on his lips, he put down the paper cup, pushing open the door of the nearest bathroom to run some cold water onto the wound, but as his hand connected with the door, he felt he door stick, unmoving. He stood up straighter, to look in the small glass panel in the door, his heart dropping as he saw the sight.

"Hotch!" Morgan shouted loudly, across the room. "Hotch, we got a problem." He said, moving aside to allow the team leader to see what was happening inside the locked room. As Hotch's eyes peered into the room, he felt his blood run cold.

"Detective, we have a problem." Hotch said authoratively, taking the key from the stout woman, unlocking it as Morgan called for some paramedics and an ambulance. Hotch entered, his face more serious than usual, expression sombre as he came closer to the unconscious Reid. His face was deathly pale, his veins visible. A spent syringe lay on the side, a few empty vials rolling about, a evidence bag sticking out of his messenger bag that lay beside his body on the ground. Hotch placed his fingers at the younger's neck, shuddering at how cold he was, frantically feeling for a pulse. It was a minute before he found one, the pulse weak under the grey tinged skin.

"He's alive, but barely. I don't know if he's gonna pull through." Morgan said, looking at the empty vials. It appeared to be a massive overdose, and Morgan looked at the body of his teammate before pocketing the vials, along with the several he found in Reid's messenger bag. There were three empty ones lying in a hidden pocket, and Morgan slipped them into an evidence bag. Just in case, he thought to himself, sliding the bags into his pocket as several paramedics came in to lift his teammate's lanky body out onto the gurney, with Morgan's assistance. He shuddered as he felt Reid's rib bones jutting out, his limp elbow digging into his muscled abdomen. Compared to Morgan's toned muscles, Reid was basically weightless, and it was an odd feeling as he lifted the younger man onto the gurney.

"Will he be alright?" Hotch inquired quietly, as one of the paramedics came back to grab the spent syringe to use as evidence, as another slipped an oxygen mask over his ashen face.

"I don't know, it doesn't look very good. We'll run some tests, and he'll have to sleep it off. The only thing we can do is wait." She said darkly, slipping past Hotch to aid the others in transferring the gurney onto the ambulance, the sirens becoming more distance as the vehicle drove away. Hotch sat down on the floor, holding his head in his hands, his expression blank. Morgan just stood outside, shaking his head to Emily and JJ who had opened their mouths to inquire.

"Long story." He said, before grabbing his jacket and keys, leaving the precinct, Hotch following behind. JJ and Emily exchanged a glance before settling down in their seats with a worried glance at the door. They had seen the gurney, but didn't know who was lying on it, and they just assumed it was one of the officers. They had no idea it was Reid, and for all they knew, he was off somewhere, chatting with some officer about something or the other, instead of lying on a gurney, barely breathing as paramedics put saline into him.

"Okay then." JJ said to the empty room, looking around awkwardly as she walked over to the coffee machine and pressed the button. As her drink brewed, she just gave Emily a small smile, picking up the coffee and handing it to her, which Emily received with a grateful smile.

"What's this in aid of?" She asked jokingly, as JJ came back with her own cup. They took long gulps of the bitter liquid, enjoying the caffeine that rushed through their veins as the drink burned their throats. Emily sighed as she leaned back in her seat comfortably, eyes closed, relishing the moment of peace that they had. JJ smiled at her friend's antics, taking another drink of her coffee as she did so, rolling her eyes a little as the other woman's bangs went from neat to ruffled. A beeping from Emily's phone roused the woman, considerably more disgruntled.

"There goes the peace," she muttered, before picking up with a small 'Agent Prentiss'. She listened before holding her hand up in confusion, throwing her hair back. JJ ave her a curious glance as her confused expression turned to shock.

"What is it?" JJ mouthed, seeing her distressed friend, her jaw wide with horror as she sank back to her seat, her hand over her mouth as her eyes widened.

"Its…its Reid. He's in hospital, we need to go, now." She said, grabbing her coat, the drink abandoned on the table, next to JJ's file as the blonde woman rushed after the dark haired, slipping her thin arms into her jacket as her heels tapped across the linoleum floor and they climbed into one of the sedans that they were allowed to use, leaving the officers to look at them oddly.


	5. Chapter 5

Hotch and Morgan ran after the several EMTs that were pushing the gurney across the long halls of the hospital, hating how frail Reid's body looked as he lay unconscious, saline needles, equipment and tubes were plugged into his limbs, showing off exactly how pale and papery the thin arms were. It broke their hearts seeing Reid like this, and they were forced to a stop as a door with the label '_Medical Personnel Only_' was opened and Reid was whisked away for treatment, or something of the sort. Morgan wasn't really clear on what they did for someone who had overdosed on dilaudid, but he couldn't imagine it to be pleasant at all.

As the two walked side by side in the now quiet hallways back to the waiting room, Morgan's mind was on Reid. Why hadn't he spoken up when he thought something was off? Now that he thought about it, Reid had been behaving weirdly since his prior experience with the drug and the crazed man that had brought so much emotional trauma onto the team. The muscular man gratefully sank into the sofa, next to Hotch, who had sat down in a much more dignified manner, his usual blank stare present on his serious face.

Though he didn't look it, a barrage of emotions was currently attacking Hotch, screaming at him for being so bloody stupid. Why hadn't he been more firm with Reid? A little bit of prying would have gotten to this much quicker, privacy be damned. He'd certainly take intrusion and anger over letting his close friend and teammate lose his life due to addiction. Did Reid honestly think they'd judge him? Hell, they all had their own weaknesses, he fumed, cradling his head in his hands as a vain attempt to ward off the headache that was coming, but now seemed inevitable as he had to just sit there and wait for the prognosis.

The quietness of the room was interrupted by JJ and Emily bursting in, the door swinging open as the two women ran in, their coats half off and faces creased with worry as they skidded to a halt in front of the two men. If not for the dire circumstances, Morgan would've smiled at the undignified state of the two women, as Emily's hair was a total mess. JJ didn't look much better; appearances had sort of gone out of the window in their concern of Reid.

"Spence, is he okay?" JJ asked breathlessly, falling onto the couch next to Morgan, as Emily took the more dignified approach and grabbed a bottle of water from the mini fridge in the room and drank down half of it in one.

"We don't know, but it doesn't look good," Morgan admitted, thinking of Reid's pale form lying limp on the gurney, as the medical jargon filled his ears. Stabs of pain could be felt, thinking of the resident genius. He hadn't just been a colleague; he was one of the brightest forces in the BAU, his aloofness giving him a sense of innocence somehow, in the weirdest way possible.

"What the hell happened?" Emily asked, turning to Hotch, pulling him out of his reverie. It took him a second to respond, blinking quickly to rouse himself from the little trance that he'd been in previously.

"He overdosed, I think. Morgan found some dilaudid in his bag, as well as a few vials in the bathroom and at the bottom of his bag. The vials were different from the ones found at the crime scene, so we assumed that he brought some back from the shed." Hotch filled her in. As Emily heard the words she felt her blood run cold. So he'd lied that he was okay. He used the dilaudid, even though he knew the risks. All of the risks, and he still did it. She couldn't understand why he'd put so much at stake for the sake of the drugs.

Morgan, on the other hand, knew exactly why. Most people who hadn't been through addiction or any other form of pain as deep as this would simply say stop using. But he knew it wasn't that easy, and he knew better than everyone. Stopping was hard, and withdrawal came with all sorts of depressions, and a lot of pain. The drug was most likely the only relief one would and could get, a means of coping.

Morgan's mind turned to Carl Buford. Hell, it would've been easy to tell someone, they had said to him. Why didn't he? Was he stupid? No. He didn't know it was wrong. He had too much to lose, and so did Reid. The job in the BAU was taxing, and Reid was the youngest and most inexperienced of them all, not to mention being the most emotionally fragile. He was a kid, after all, and Morgan felt a huge wave of protectiveness sweep over him like a blanket. He willed Reid to be okay. He had to be okay; he just had to. He couldn't imagine the BAU without the resident genius, talking about all things nerdy. Sure, they all pretended (most of the time) that he was annoying when he got all 'geniusy' but they all had a certain soft spot for the kid, and he was invaluable to the team. Reid was more than a colleague, he was a teammate. Friend. Best friend. Confidant. Genius.

If Reid didn't pull through this, Morgan wouldn't know what to do. Life without Reid in the BAU would be so different, so much darker without the kid to make it more lighthearted. So painful, every statistic and geographical profile reminding them of the teammate and child they had lost from drugs. The man who knew everything about everything, falling victim to drugs. It was almost sickening, the man who knew everything there was to know about substance abuse and addiction, to fall prey to the opiods that had taken so many before their time. Morgan felt a single tear coming to his eye, reminiscing about Reid. His little brother, the one he needed to protect, no matter what. He'd give his life for the man, and he would rather him lying on that stretcher than see his teammate in pain and fighting for his life.

Morgan was pulled out of his silent torment by his phone ringing. _Penelope._

"Hey baby girl," he said into the receiver, his voice without his usual perkiness.

"Derek…" Penelope's sad voice sounded from the other end. He could see her in his mind, sitting alone in her computer room, a tear falling down her face and her shaking hands delivering whatever command the team needed. Regardless of what was happening, Garcia still had to work for some other teams due to the fact that the FBI was short staffed. The team at least were given the courtesy of being allowed to wait for Reid in the hospital, but Garcia still had to work numerous cases.

"Penelope, he's gonna be okay. I know Reid. He's going to pull through." He said, more to himself than to the analyst on the other end.

"Derek, what if he doesn't? What if life's thrown enough crap at him, and he cant win this battle?" Penelope said, a sob breaking her sentence, her knuckles white with the force she was gripping the receiver with, her rings standing out against her stark white skin. Derek put his head in his hands. Garcia was usually so bright, and happy, and this was an unpleasant, saddening, hell even scary change.

"Look, baby girl. You need to look on the bright side. Reid's gonna be okay. The kid is stronger than he looks." He said, feeling a tear well up in his eyes, his emotion despondent. If Garcia wasn't her cheerful self, this situation was a lot worse than it seemed.

"I know, and I keep telling myself that. Derek, please make sure he's okay. Please," she begged, a sniffle coming as she dabbed a tissue at her eyes.

"I will, Penelope, I will." He vowed, wiping away the single tear that rolled down his cheeks. The sound of a beep on the other end could be heard in Morgan's ear.

"Derek, I need to go. Take good care of him, mon ami." Penelope dropped the call with a press of a button, but without her usual flourish. Derek closed his phone, sliding it back into his pocket, before leaning back into the couch with a sigh. All there could be done was to wait, and he hated it.

_He hated situations in which he had no control._


	6. Chapter 6

"EKG needed."

"Pass the saline."

"Still unconscious. Damn.

"BP's low. Get him to the ICU now!"

JJ bit her lip as she heard the shouts coming from the ward beside their waiting room that they were all sitting in. Rossi had recently arrived, and elected to sit quietly in a corner nursing a mug of coffee, lost in his thoughts. From what she could hear, it didn't sound good, and she bet it was worse than she heard. Hell, he sounded like hell from what she had read up on her phone on dilaudid overdose, and she felt a deep emptiness whenever she thought about it. Reid and she had a special bond, the two were very close, and had worked together for a long time. She knew he had her back, and vice versa. Field work would be very different without him.

Next to the blonde, Emily was having much of the same thoughts. Reid had always been so dependable, and although his genius intellect could be annoying at times, he still knew more than the entire team combined. And it would suck to go to work without Reid, and his bad jokes, physics magic and all the other interesting quirks that defined him as a person. This wasn't going to end well, and she felt lost. Reid was just the glue that held them together, lightening the mood with his innocent confusion. And hell, she would miss him. A lot. Damn, she thought to herself darkly. Why am I having these thoughts? He's going to pull through. He's strong. He can do it.

~FANFICTION~

Reid heard a beeping, and the sound of wheels as his vision focused, blurred then focused, before spots could be seen and he was forced to close them. Bright lights could be seen through the closed eyelids, as he tried to work out where he was. So blurry, he thought to himself. Am I dead? This isn't too bad, he mused. Only when he heard the medical jargon, he realised he was in a hospital. A needle was inserted into his arm, and he let out a small moan of longing, before more beeping came. The difference between the dilaudid and saline was the fact that it didn't come with the bliss that Reid craved, and he lay expectantly as he waited for the high to come. But it didn't.

He felt his muscles twitch, before a painful spasm crossed over his body, jerking it a little. A curse could be heard as his body twitched again, a powerful force moving his limp form, no longer in control. As his vision refocused and blurred out, he was forced to close his eyes, a dull ache in his temples turning rapidly into a migraine. He felt his vision spin, black snowflakes dancing in front of his eyes, the room hazy and unfocused. A hand gripped his, and he smelt the familiar sweet perfume, and the feel of the soft cashmere sweater. Maeve. Happiness flowed through him like a river, as he rushed towards her, not caring of who or what was chasing him. But her hand kept moving, an inch away from him after the first touch. He looked into her soft brown eyes, her face breaking into the beautiful smile that he loved so much, the voice that he had spoken to for so many hours on the phone right there, in front of him. They'd be together at last.

Images of Maeve's broken body lying lifeless on the ground faded away as he was pulled into a warm embrace by the woman he loved, burying his head into her shoulder as he held her close, the warmth seeping through his thin shirt as they hugged, the heat radiating from her body warming his. Everything would be okay again.

But Maeve didn't stay. After a minute or two of absolute bliss, dancing in the moonlit library suspended by the ethereal glow of the night sky, Maeve stepped away, a translucent form, ghostly even. Her expression shifted, eyes became glassy and lifeless and her body dropped to the floor, lifeless. Blood spatter was a halo around her head as her crumpled form lay on the ground pitifully, a pool of plasma soaking into her sweater.

Reid put down his hand, tears swimming in his eyes as he did so, the irises that had seen too much clouded by grief as he saw her falling in slow motion, an endless torture that couldn't seem to end. Her glassy eyes closed for the last time, lips parted in a shaky breath, her brown hair in a beautiful wave as the wind and gravity pulled her down, cascading into the pool of blood. Her cashmere sweater now bloodstained, she lay there, finally broken.

He stood there, staring agape, reliving what was probably the worst moments in his entire life, eyes wide with shock and unable to comprehend what had happened. As he pulled her broken body towards him, uncaring of the blood that dripped, he felt a tear running down his narrow face, mixing with the blood of his lover that lay in his arms. Her lips were still as smooth and soft as he remembered, his hands tracing patterns on her pearly skin, running through her brown hair. She could've been asleep, if not for the blood that stained his hands.

He didn't know how long he was there for, but it was long. Darkness had fell upon the library, shrouding the books in a blanket of black, a ghostly, eerie look to the chamber now. Maeve seemed to get up from his arms, and take a step back, holding her hand out for him, no longer bloodstained and dead. The brown eyes that had been closed and lifeless just a moment ago were now back to their past vigour, beautiful and kind, the eyes that Reid loved so much. Brown hair no longer matted, it flowed down her back in soft tendrils, accentuating her features.

"Come on, Spencer." She said, with a wide smile. "Come with me."

Reid didn't know whether to go or not. If he said yes, he'd be with Maeve. But if he did, he wouldn't see any of the BAU anymore. Never again would he banter with Morgan, have a conversation with Garcia. Never solve another case with Hotch, or taste Rossi's famous pasta. No more conversations with Emily, or hanging out with JJ and Will. He'd miss his godson, Henry, too. Wouldn't be able to see him growing up.

One look into her brown eyes completely changed it all. He was happier than he'd ever been, with Maeve now. As his expression softened, he shakily got up, placing his hand in Maeve's. He was happy. He was going home.

"Take me," he whispered, his dry lips cracked, before he slipped into unconsciousness, his already weak pulse plummeting even further. The doctors sighed. This was worse than they thought, and he was starting to hallucinate, from what it looked like. Of course, they couldn't tell what was going on, but they knew it was bad.

"Crap, get him on more saline." One of the doctors ordered, switching out the rapidly draining IV bag as a nurse injected a drug into the port. As the door swung open to the ICU, Morgan could hear their fading voices as the doctors rushed to save the life of a young man, their desperation radiating off of them in waves, a tidal wave.

It was only as the corridors grew silent once again that he wondered if it would be the last time he would see Reid alive.


	7. Chapter 7

LONG AUTHORS NOTE, SKIP BELOW IF YOU DON'T WANT TO READ THIS.

/geez caps lock much. Crazy author.

**_Omg I'm so sorry I haven't updated in so long I hope you guys didn't forget about this series... I've just been super busy with work and school stuff, and I lost track...whatever I'm done with the excuses I'm really sorry guys, to everyone who enjoyed it._**

**_AS USUAL, PLEASE READ/REVIEW AND MAYBE EVEN FOLLOW OR FAVOURITE IT._**

**_And I also got over a thousand five hundred views on this so...yay! Thank you guys_**

~FANFICTION~

It was a dark atmosphere in the waiting room. Even though they still had to finish off the case paperwork, none of the BAU left the hospital, only periodically leaving the waiting room for coffee or to go to the restroom. They were all torn with concern for their teammate and friend, lying unconscious in the next room. It was painful, Morgan mused, they all wanted to see him, but weren't allowed to. Hell they could hear his agonized moaning through the thin plaster walls, the beeping of the various machines a constant reminder of the fact that Reid was in danger.

Morgan sat on the sofa with his head cradled in his hands, his eyes closed. The other members of the team were also in similar positions, consumed by their own worry and anguish over the man. Or boy; Reid was the 'kid' of the team, the one that everyone felt paternal for at times. Or more frequently than at times, depending how one looked at it.

Emily's thoughts were filled with grief, her dark eyes scanning the room, strangely cold and empty without the kid. It was like when he had been infected with anthrax, lying in the bed helpless and dying as the virus took hold of him. That had been (undeniably) one of the scariest moments on the job. Well definitely top five material. And the job was already scary enough without personal attacks or drugs. Look what had happened to Strauss. She cast a sideways worried glance at Hotch, who's face was pale and stretched, gaunt with lack of sleep and stress. Dark circles ringed his hollow eyes, and the irises had no expression. Only black darkness, not quite human. She shuddered; it was scary to see her boss like this. Personally speaking Hotch was one of the most experienced men in the office, the strong stable one.

But maybe the job had taken a toll on him, and suddenly she wasn't so sure. His expression was ashen, and gaping, and it was scary to see her boss in such a catatonic state, blank and emotional. She wanted to say something, but didn't; tact had never been her strongest suit. So she settled for sitting silently, trying to block out the barrage of emotions coming at her.

[Meanwhile with Reid…]

Darkness.

Hazy blurs moving to and fro, an eerie dance in front of his eyes.

The soft yet loud beeping of the heart monitor.

The pain of the needle in his arm.

_The needle._

A groan escaped his parted lips as his eyes cast down to a pale arm, a silver needle slid into the vein, sticking up against the bone. A piece of chalky colored surgical tape covered up the telltale shine, but not enough.

Reid squeezed his eyes shut blearily, the light burning to his delicate eyes, soft ringing in his ears as he turned his head. Dark circles were prominent on his bony cheeks, skinny figure even more emaciated than it previously was, bruises showing purple and blue from his ordeal in the bathrooms.

His eyes strayed around the room, taking in the medical equipment, the hiss of the oxygen cannula unnerving. He wasn't used to the sterile smell of the room, or the rough material of the hospital gown. He swallowed nervously, hating how dry his throat was.

Spencer Reid didn't like this at all.

And now the high had worn off, and the drugs the hospital had pumped into his system left him feeling horrible and groggy, with the migraine of a lifetime. Reid winced, looking around his room again. Some water would be nice, and maybe something for the headache he was having. And the needle too. That was...unnerving.

"Hello?" Reid called out groggily, rolling his eyes at how hoarse and weak his voice was. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "Hello?"

But he could barely hear himself speak. Quieter than a whisper. _Damn it._

_I guess I'm waiting for people to notice I'm still alive_, he mused darkly to himself.

The rest of the team were still seated in the waiting room, in various states of dishevelment. Morgan had his muscular arm around Garcia, murmuring soft calming words of comfort into the distressed female's ears. JJ had taken to a light doze, her head leaning back and lips slightly parted, still on one of the couches. Emily and Rossi were conversing quietly, whereas Hotch was silently staring at the wall. Typical.

None of them were expecting news so soon; they had truly thought that their youngest member would be under for a much longer period of time. The fact that he was awake was...phenomenal. And surprising.

"Calling for a Spencer William Reid?" One of the med students had walked into the door, a sheaf of files in his hand, a clipboard in another, an uneasy smile on his face as he looked around for a moment.

"Yes, that's us." Hotch affirmed, gesturing to the team, who had looked up. "Is he going to be alright?"

"Yeah, he looks like he'll be okay. He's just slipped out of consciousness, but that's normal. His blood pressure is getting higher, which is good since it was really low before." The med student informed the team, who were now listening intently, hanging on to every word that was spoken.

"He's currently on Naloxone, and an IV drip with saline currently." The med student continued. "His skin tone is going back to normal, meaning that his lips aren't blue anymore." He summarised.

"So the kid's gonna be fine," Morgan said, summing up everything the med student had said, whilst Rossi mouthed out the medical jargon. His muscular arm was still wrapped around Penelope's, holding the woman close, ignoring the bone crushing grip she had on his other hand.

"Yes it looks good for him. He's a very lucky man. He's asleep now, but when he wakes I'll inform you of his condition." The med student then inquired to see if anyone had any further questions before exiting, a buffeting gust of wind pushing Emily's hair back as the door created a draft.

Said woman released a breath that she didn't know she was holding in relief, her chest hitching as she scrabbled for more oxygen, unconsciously leaning into Rossi, who's arm was now around her shoulder in comfort. David Rossi would later say that this was to make the woman feel more comfortable, but in reality it was more about himself. He'd already lost several ex-wives, and Jason Gideon. The BAU didn't need to be losing anymore members. Not now. He held Emily like a lifeline.

Morgan and Garcia were curled together, Derek's smooth fingers stroking the analyst's hair as he murmured words of comfort, easily washing away her worries as she hugged him, both providing some sort of alleviation from the agony of the day's events. Penelope was strong, keeping Derek from falling into the abyss of depression, and self blame. His lifeline. The woman that prevented him from falling, the pain and anguish of the job. She prevented all that from happening to him, gave him some sunshine in his world of darkness.

Morgan couldn't help but think that if Reid had had someone like Penelope in his life, he would have something to keep him grounded. He was the least experienced of the elite unit; all of them had done a lot of service, whereas Reid was fresh. He wasn't as prepared as they were, for the harsh reality of the crimes, the manipulation and murder of the criminal industry. Reid had always been slight, but his smallness had never seemed to sink in until now. He was so good at analysing, and predicting movements from statistics. The job required one to protect others, sometimes to the extent of giving your life for another.

But what to do, when your enemy was yourself?

A tremulous breath shook the agent's chest as he pulled Garcia closer, eyes closed, burying his face in her hair, uncaring of the elaborate style. Emotion engulfed him.

Even though Reid was going to be okay physically, he didn't know how he would be mentally. He didn't know how to deal with this. Physical enemies, okay. But mental?

He was one of Reid's best friends, and more. He should know how to make him feel okay. But he felt like he would screw up.

"Derek…" Penelope whispered, eyes looking up. They were once lively, but now filled with worry and sorrow, the happiness gone, now replaced by blank worriness.

"Its okay, baby girl," Morgan murmured back to her, hands still cradling her form. "Pretty Boy's gonna be fine. The med student said. Don't worry." He reassured her, turning away his gaze so she wouldn't see the uneasy expression on his weatherbeaten face, deep set onyx eyes staring at the wall.

~FANFICTION~

_**This story is now officially OFF hiatus**_


	8. Chapter 8

_**A/N: There is a TON of hurt!Reid and Reid in a psychotic state in this chapter, plus emotions.**_

_**I'm straying into unfamiliar territory with this, but if anyone has any suggestions for what should happen, REVIEW or PM ME. After all, I write this story to please ;)**_

_**There is a lot of emotional drama in this section, but the Reid Whump is nowhere near over, seeing as I've just gotten started...whoops. *cough* sadist *cough***_

_**Anyways, I'm shutting up now :3**_

~FANFICTION~

Hotch was apathetic and expressionless as usual, trying to block out the turmoil of thoughts that were currently plaguing him. As the team were in various states of relief, shock and worry for their friend, he was sitting silently, not even trying to block out the waves of grief his mind was emitting. He should have known better than to let Reid near those drugs so soon.

Soon? The little (not) incident had happened a while back, and even now… He should learn to cope with the job. He knows the risks like all of us, his reasonable side said, chastising him for his self blame. But his other more dominant side, the emotional side said different. What if you'd intervened? Then maybe he'd be okay. Maybe you could have caught him. You should have pried, or something. It's the lesser of the two evils. Maybe he'd be okay, and maybe the rest of the team wouldn't be in such a terrified state of mind, worrying. You could have gotten another case, but no. You're here, because of something you screwed up.

Hotch shut his eyes in annoyance, weathered hands rubbing his temples in an attempt to ward off the incoming migraine that was sure to come, which didn't go unnoticed by Rossi, who patted Emily on the shoulder before coming over to Hotch, noticing he sat a ways away from the others.

"Penny for your thoughts, Aaron?" He asked, in his husky voice, mustache quivering as he levered himself into a chair with a sigh, a grumble about his joints on his lips.

"Getting old, Dave?" Hotch quipped back, letting a small half smile slip through his lips as the older man made himself comfortable on the seat. Rossi let out a dry chuckle before responding.

"Still got a good few years left, Aaron, before a quiet retirement with writing and cigars." Rossi scoffed in mock anger, grinning when Hotch sat back, the small smile still slightly present. But Hotch's apathetic expression returned after a minute.

"You know, I am a profiler, and you're avoiding the question. So spill." Rossi directed the question at Hotch in a direct manner. Even though Hotch was the team leader, Rossi was by far more experienced, and really sassy. And he knew that Dave cared for him, and wouldn't pry if unasked. But yet the emotions were so angry, plaguing him. And he wanted it to stop, so badly, but deserved it for not doing anything sooner.

"Dave…" Hotch began, faltering a little which was very much unlike him. Rossi's look of exasperation prompted him to continue. "Is it wrong...that I feel like this is my fault. If I'd intervened. I should have known that the presence of the drug would trigger something, that's textbook psychology." Hotch placed his head in his hands, a rare glimmer of vulnerability emitted from the man. Rossi just placed his hand on Hotch's shoulder, letting him rant.

"God. I should have checked. I knew he'd seemed off lately but I didn't...I didn't want to interfere, because I thought it wasn't my business. But maybe if I had...Reid wouldn't be in this comatose state. Maybe he'd be okay." Hotch mumbled, a rare show of emotion pulsing from his crumpled form. His usual cold vigor was replaced by burning grief, guilt, plaguing him, the sight of Reid's limp body curled on the floor burned into his retinas.

"Maybe if I'd done my job, made sure he got proper therapy and counselling from the incident even though he denied needing any help. Like all of us. Instead I listened to him, let him suffer from this on his own. Deal with it himself. What business do I have leading a team if I can't even realise when to pull someone out of duty? God!" Hotch finished, a shudder wracking his body as Rossi patted his shoulder.

"Let it out, Aaron. You couldn't have known. We all didn't. No one knew it was gonna be this way." Rossi murmured quietly, allowing his junior to lean onto him as he pulled an arm around his shoulder. For a moment, Hotch leaned on Rossi to be his rock, to get him through.

"I should have done more. I should have known. Should have, I should have…" Hotch's muttering became quieter with each breath.

As Dave leaned back, he swore he could feel the wet drops of tears pooling on his wrinkled jacket, seeping into his starched shirt. He just sat there, letting the team leader relieve his stress. Hell Hotch let him do that too often. Perhaps now it was...time to repay the favor.

~FANFICTION~

Reid's bleary eyes opened once more to the familiar white tiled ceiling, the monotonous beeping of the heart rate monitor gracing his ears. He blinked. The ceiling wasn't as blurry as it was before, which was a good sign. The headache was still there, but less major, a dull ache in his temples. The saline was still in his arm, the needle stark against the pale skin of his spindly arm.

Reid scrubbed at his eyes for a second, to clear his vision and gather his crashed in his head, mixing and muddling but yet so clear somehow, in the dreary haze as the drug wore off. He stretched his aching shoulders, grimacing at the melange of needle marks that littered his arm.

"Oh crap…" Slurred words escaped his lips as he thought of the needles and drugs, the overwhelming impulse to shoot up still with him. A guttural, feral hunger for the high. All of a sudden, the relief of waking vanished, replaced by anger. Rage. Despair. Guilt.

Why didn't they let me go? It was perfect...I could be with Maeve. And happy, he thought to himself, biting down hard on his lip, eyes clenched shut as he pulled the thin sheet above his tousled locks. God. Now I have to face them. How can I face them? After they've seen me like this? I won't be the genius to them anymore. Just the broken kid who couldn't buck up, who had to be saved… Weak.

_Stupid._

_Worthless._

Weak.

Weak…

Weak…

The harsh words echoed in his head, the jeering, spiteful voices of his team members filling his ears, covering him, trapping him, no escape from the torturous words that bit at his already fragile form with every syllable, every twitch of their lips cutting and angry, ripping open the wounds even more. He could hear the distinctive gruffness of Rossi's seasoned rumble, the harsh venom that fell from Emily's lips. The betrayal and hate lacing Morgan's taciturn voice, the surges of anger coming from Garcia's normally sweet banter. Hotch was there too, stern and foreboding, a sense of authority that further convinced Spencer of his perceived weakness, JJ's normally soft spoken voice layered over the anger in a blanket of resentment in his world of umbrage.

"_...stupid…"_

_"He's just a useless kid."_

_"He's not worth it."_

_"...can't believe I saw potential…"_

_"Weak."_

_"Worthless."_

_"Stupid."_

_"Dumb."_

_"Useless."_

_"Worthless."_

_"Weak."_

He could hear all of them now, as if they were chanting, a cutting mantra that dug into his mind, weaving uncertainty and grief through his addled state. Their words didn't make sense anymore; just the overwhelming combination of negative emotions swarming him, surrounding him, entangling him in its web of despair. He slammed his hands to his ears, trying to block it out, even though he knew it was all true.

But they got even louder.

_"STUPID."_

_"WEAK."_

_"WORTHLESS."_

_"STUPID!"_

_"WEAK!"_

_"WORTHLESS!"_

Reid squeezed his eyes shut, the pale skin stretching over his skull, thin and papery, as he attempted to shut out the wave of noise that was currently screaming in his head. He didn't know if they were real, and neither did he care. He just wanted it to stop.

"Oh god…" he mumbled, burying his ashen face in the flimsy pillow. "Oh god, make it stop…"

_"STUPID."_

_"You think asking us to stop will make it stop?"_

_"Hah, he's just a kid. Can't handle the ugly truth."_

_"He's just worthless."_

_"Weak."_

_"Stop…" he whispered, a tear falling down his face. "Stop. Make it stop." He repeated again, clenching his fists._

_"...dumb, worthless, idiot."_

_"No wonder his mother was schizophrenic."_

_"He's just a psycho."_

_"Just another worthless schizo who slipped through the cracks."_

_"Good for nothing."_

_"Worthless."_

_"Weak."_

"STOP! Make it stop! Shut up! _No!_" The voices exploded, screaming shrilly now, hate and anger thrown at him. In a futile attempt to make them stop, Reid's hand shot out in front of him, fingers grabbing onto the IV pole next to the bed, clenched knuckles now eerily white against the blue veins on his hands. Tears were streaming down his face now, his lips parted in a soundless scream, completely controlled by the voices for a moment as his hands shifted, throwing the pole into a medical table beside, causing a cascade of glass to shatter on the linoleum floor.

A stabbing pain coursed through the genius' arms as the needle snapped, part of it still lodged in his arm. But he ignored it. Only to make the voices stop.

"Shut up! Just shut up! Shut up!" He screamed angrily, his voice not even his anymore, something feral sparked inside of him, a burning rage as he was consumed with helplessness, waves of grief washing over him like the tide, only it seemed like it had no waning. Just crashing into him, over and over again as his hands and feet lashed out, uncaring as glass sliced them, crimson blood pooling on the pale skin and periodically dotting the floors and sheets.

"No...please...stop…" Reid sobbed, as his hands beat at an invisible opponent, drops of blood scattering over the white room, a macabre sort of graffiti. His tone was beseeching, yet guttural, animalistic and barely human. Tears fell freely now, streaking the hollow cheeks and mixing with the blood on the floor. So consumed in his rage, he was not aware of the door sliding open, a pair of nurses and a doctor entering, dodging the fragments of glass littering the floor periodically, the bright glint of a syringe shining in the bright room.

"Oh god...shut up. Please…" Reid muttered, as he lashed out again numbly, feeling hands grabbing at his shoulder. His frail body arched instinctively, but he could feel the icy pain of a needle hitting the barely existent muscles of his upper arm through the melange of haze. Dimly aware that he had been drugged, his eyes rolled back into his head and he fell back, unconscious.

"_Worthless…"_ he whispered to himself vaguely, a loopy sort of half smile coming onto his face before the blissful darkness enveloped him once more.

Finally, the voices stopped.

~FANFICTION~

**_I copied the voices idea from this one episode of Criminal Minds, where the Unsub happens to be a person who sees these three people that were killed in a fire with him, and they plague him etc. I don't really remember the plotline, but this is where I got the voices from._**

**_Let's just say that things will be worse before they get better... heehee._**

**_Reviewers? Y'all get a chimichanga. TYSM 3_**


	9. Chapter 9

**First of all, I apologise profusely for my delay in continuing this story, or updating. My country decided to block FFN because its supposedly a 'security risk' or whatnot. And it blocked stuff like Reddit, or Pinterest and whatever. Yeah, its a tad f*cked up. (More than a tad). Ugh. But I'm moving, so updates should definitely be more consistent (maybe a chapter every 2 weeks, ish, depending on my muse).**

**I apologise again; your reviews kept me going. So here's a longer (hopefully chapter), full of feels.**

**And I've got a new spacing format, so... Yay?**

**\- Thank You 3**

~FANFICTION~

Blurry ceilings were a normality to a certain genius now.

The familiar dance if the lines, dancing eerily between his eyes, the haze that seemed to cloud his vision perpetually now not a hindrance but merely something he had gotten used to. And so was the pain that came with it. Or rather the lack of it now after the needle had gone into his arm.

Reid swallowed nervously as his eyes fluttered open before falling shut again, the drug swiftly taking over his system. He barely remembered what had happened, except for the fact that there was pain, red and haze.

Yeah. Basically same old same old.

A indecipherable mumble escaped his lips as he squeezed his eyes shut once more, the light painful to his delicate irises. Just great, he thought to himself. Just another reason for them to think I'm weak. God.

"Oh hell..." He muttered, sitting up a little, his head gripped in his hands as thoughts flashed through his mind with an alarming rapidity, anguish and shame darting in and out of the various crevices that were broken even more with every thought. The apathetic beeping of the heart monitor was a sound that dictated the seconds that he lived, the every beep a wrenching feeling of hopelessness and despair.

_Worthless._

_Stupid._

_Alone._

_Not good enough._

_Shameful._

_Stupid._

_Worthless._

He was so wrapped up in his thoughts that he didn't notice the door opening, the click of the door not enough to pull him out of his reverie, his face ashen as he lay silently, thin sheets covering him.

"Excuse me, Mr. Reid," the soft yet firm voice of the doctor spoke, tone slightly muffled by the surgical mask that hung off her ears, her glasses perched upon his nose, flecks of grey dotting her long auburn hair, figure standing tall (not unlike Reid) next to the bed.

"You're excused, and its 'Doctor'." Spencer replied snippily, the growing pain making him shut his eyes in annoyance as he turned over with a slight hiss. His brown locks splayed over the pillow, a stark contrast to his papery, pale skin.

"Very well, Doctor Reid," the physician said with a sigh, consulting her chart. She knew that irritability was often an effect of a hospital stay, and the fact that he had recently undergone quite a bit of drug eradication in the ICU didn't really help.

"I'm Dr. Amelia Donnelly, and I'll be your primary physician for this stay." She continued, tapping her pen across the chart as she recorded his vitals. "Hmm. You're blood pressure is still a bit low but that's just an after effect of the treatments. How are you feeling? Achy? Anything hurt?" Amelia inquired, tucking a strand of flyaway hair behind her ear.

"Apart from a killer headache/borderline migraine and the fact that I'm stuck here? Peachy." Reid said sarcastically, with a huff. Anger to hide insecurity? He didn't realize the doctor's eyebrows rise into her hairline. Evidently she had been told that he was mild mannered and clever but this seemed the exact opposite. Grouchy seemed to be more of Hotch's style, but then again Hotch could rub off on one...

"Well," Amelia said, ignoring his outburst. "We could give you some morphine for the-"

"No! I refuse to take any narcotics." Reid said instinctively, the practiced response rolling off his tongue with ease. But inwardly he wondered. Would he get that high again with morphine? It was pretty damn powerful, and he had seen and/or learned about the effects from the seminars that the members of the FBI had to take every now and then.

But it was tempting; before this, he had kept narcotics away from his system for fear of relapse into his addiction. But it needn't have mattered; he had fallen back into the trap of dilaudid again. Well and truly this time.

"Are you sure M- Dr. Reid?" Amelia questioned, cutting herself off before she could risk another outburst from the annoyed agent.

"Yes, I'm very sure." He replied grouchily, ignoring the thudding pain in his head. Best not to risk it, and knowing Hotch, he would have found the drugs as he canvassed the 'crime scene' of sorts, as well as the spent vial. Years of working with the man had taught him about how clever Hotch was, and he was certain that their team leader was smart enough to put two and two together.

Hotch.

What would Hotch think? A father figure of sorts, a surrogate if he may, for the father Reid never had. William had been...abusive, and ignorant of Spencer, a rather trying topic for the youngest member of the BAU. Reid's cheeks burned with shame.

What would Hotch think?

He had convinced the experienced team leader that he was clean of the drug, completely. Convinced him he had gone to therapy, and gotten what help he needed to recover from the traumatic incident of being kidnapped and exposed to the drugs in that manner, thanks to the particular unsub that had a taste for the narcotic. Yeah. Thanks. Not.

And as far as Reid was concerned, Hotch had bought it. But the man hadn't seeked out any treatment, opting for silent suffering, as nightmares and vivid hallucinations plagued him, as well as a growing need for the drug that had previously incapacitated him to that manner. But this was what he was; an addict. Reduced to nothing.

_Stupid._

_Worthless._

_Useless._

_Disappointment._

_Failure._

The negative thoughts he had fought so hard to be rid of… They were back, and back with a cold, hard vengeance, an icy incessant poking at his mind, convecting negativity throughout. Whilst the man had been somewhat a little more comfortable (thanks to the sedative), that comfort had been extinguished by the pounding thoughts.

"Actually maybe I'll take a little…" Spencer murmured under his breath, trying to fight off the impulses and thoughts.

"Pardon?" Amelia Donnelly peeked her head back into the room, tucking a strand of wayward hair behind her ear.

"Nothin'. Just uhh…" Reid scrambled for an excuse. "Sorting out my thoughts… Never mind."

"Alright; tell us if you need anything."

"Mhm."

"I'll be back in a few hours to check on you, Dr. Reid."

"Mhm."

He waited until the slightly rounded figure of the doctor to leave before releasing a breath, his taciturn demeanor vanishing as soon as the click of the door was heard, switching abruptly as a tear fell down his cheek, meandering in a river like pattern before coming to a stop. Great. He had a few hours alone, hopefully no one would bother him. Then they'd see how worthless he was, stupid. The so called genius, wasting his 187 IQ on drugs, reduced to that of an addict. Worse. And a dilaudid aficionado at that.

Morphine. Heroin. The hard stuff he had sworn he would never touch, having seen the effects of the 'medication' on people. Their tiny, emaciated bodies, the listless eyes and the powerful craze of addiction, the hunger for the substance so powerful, an incessant unstoppable craving for the next fix, which just made it worse. It was like a never ending cycle of destruction, leaving a person mentally exhausted, physically broken and with an insatiable hunger for the next fix.

And yet here he was, the legendary Spencer Reid, child prodigy turned genius turned distinguished profiler. Reduced to none more than an addict.

"I'm not…" He mumbled, under his breath. As his breathy voice echoed in the room, the beeping of the heart monitor seemed to emphasise his loneliness, the silence that could have been solace now the contrary. Just him, the beeping, the darkness, looming, the dilaudid, the drugs, the kick, the hunger, the lust…

What had he become? He didn't recognise himself anymore; the hungry stare in his eyes, the frail figure, the willowy form now emaciated, the needle scars… The IQ wasted, a prodigy turned addict. He had built up a reputation of being the smart dependable kid, but he had blown it with own stupid move. Continuing the use of dilaudid.

"What do I have to lose?" he murmured to himself. "I mean, I've already blown everything. It's all gone. I have nothing to lose…"

FANFICTION~

**I promise, the Team will be back in the next chapter, which I'm writing. Though it seems a tad hard to get their mannerisms on point; the only episode I have for reference is Amplification, I believe... If anyone could suggest episodes that involve Reid and Dilaudid (the memory is BLOODY FOGGY), it would be completely and utterly appreciated. **

**And thank you so much for reviewing/reading/faving/following; it really means a lot. Thank you guys so much; you're all awesome :3 **


	10. Chapter 10

**Omg, I'm so sorry I haven't updated in ages! I had this chapter pre-written for awhile, but I'm currently working my way through finals (joys of GCSE French, ugh) and other subjects. And life has gotten in the way too, but I hope you enjoy this edition of depressing Reid and angsty team. **

**On another note, he gets out of the hospital soon. But well...things get worse before they get better. Feel free to speculate. Got the next few chapters plotted out, and it'll be a rather...bumpy journey for our favourite (or mine at least) genius. **

**Thank you to everyone who has read/reviewed/followed/fav'd; it really means a lot that you guys are enjoying my work, really. Its terribly humbling, and it keeps me motivated to write (should be doing some more since Christmas Break is coming up). I love you lot so much 3 **

~FANFICTION~

He felt his heart plummet to his stomach as the door swung open, the scent of hospital washing through his nasal cavity, a horrible reminder of the sombriety of the situation. Deep, kind brown eyes were drawn with worry, the lines around his eyes more prominent than ever as his forehead creased in perplexity and shock.

The thin walls had done nearly nothing to stifle the maddened cries that had resonated through the corridor, each scream a glancing blow to his auditory system, shattering the silence tens of times. Though the distressed wails had been more than anticipated, he couldn't help but wince in pain as the sobs grew more desperate, more yearning, more guttural.

But here he was again.

Standing at the door tentatively, Morgan's booted feet trembled a little with apprehension as he braced himself for the sight that would most certainly grace his eyes as he entered. But though he was prepared, he still did a slight double take as his eyes adjusted to the bright light in the white, sterile room.

"Kid…" He felt his words curl into the air and disappear as his warm brown eyes shifted into an expression of worry, casting a gaze on the forlorn figure gazing numbly up at the ceiling. Skin was pale grey, throbbing veins visible underneath the papery whiteness, dark circles ringing his eyes...oh his eyes… Once sparkling with intelligence, they were dull and lifeless, a haggard stare replacing what had allowed him to join the Bureau in the first place.

Derek felt the breath leave his lungs as he took a step closer to the bed, the sound of the heart monitor screaming in his ears, a unfeelingly cruel reminder of where he was and the sombre situation he was in. Pulling the plastic chair by the bed closer to him, he levered himself into the seat slowly, unobtrusively casting a gaze of Spencer's still form, hating how the thin sheet barely rose and fell with his breathing.

_Scrape. _

The sound of the chair moving across the sterile floor echoed in the room, the relentless beeping motion of the heart monitor sounding rhythmically.

_Beep._

_Beep._

_Beep._

"Hey kid," Morgan spoke softly, resting his elbows on his knees as he leaned a little closer to Reid; close enough to be brotherly but not exactly invading his personal space. Hell, he didn't even know how Reid was going to react with this...this...drug clouding his mind. He hadn't even been himself recently; the genius he had once known was gone with the wind, whisked away into a land of possibly no return, leaving the body empty and vulnerable for evils to take host. He was Spencer physically, but mentally...the kid he knew was gone.

No response.

"How're you feeling?" Morgan tried again, a crease appearing on his forehead in worry, deep voice slightly gravelly.

Again, no response. Just the rise and fall of his chest, the steadily fluctuating graph on his heart monitor.

Spencer fought to keep his breathing slow and even, as if he was asleep. In, out, in, out. Rhythmically; in time with the heart monitor. _Don't betray your weakness. Don't let Morgan see… Don't let him show disappointment, because you KNOW he's disappointed with your stupidity, you worthless idiot. _

"Reid…why?" Morgan murmured to himself, placing his hand on the seemingly unconscious man's hand, clasping the thin, bony fingers between strong ones, hating how weak and thin they were, loathing how the veins felt under his hand. "Kid…" A sob escaped the stronger's lips, a tear running down his nose and dotting the sheet.

"Spencer...just tell me why? You had everything...god, why? What sick bastard drove you over the edge? Who? Why didn't you tell us, or get help? God, why didn't I do anything about it...ask yoU? You'd been acting weird recently, why didn't you tell someone?" A shaky breath escaped the man's lips as he scrubbed away at his tears fiercely, but more replaced them, an intricate dance down his cheeks and onto the sheets, dotting the white with patches of grey.

Reid had to fight the urge to open his eyes, staying stony and silent as the Thoughts sent glancing blows of white-hot pain through his mind once more. The drugs tore him apart from the outside in, but the thoughts from the outside in.

_Stupid._

_Worthless._

_Good-for-nothing. _

_Disgusting._

_Disappointment._

_You should be dead. _

_Worthless. _

_They always ask why_, he thought to himself bitterly._ But why don't they ask, why not? If I had died, they'd ask why. But I'd ask, why not? Why didn't they leave me to die? They're already asking why, and I don't even know how to answer. _

_They never ask what I have to gain from the quiet. They don't know that everlasting sleep could take away the pain, take away everything. They'll never ask what I'll gain from death. And if they do...I don't know how to answer. _

_Stop asking why I did this. Stop trying to 'help' me. I'm not worth it. Not f*cking worth it. _

_Stop asking me why...please… _

Morgan's choking sobs echoed through the room, each breath like a cleaver slicing Spencer's heart to pieces. But he lay still, unmoving.

_Silent..._

~FANFICTION~

The air in the waiting room was silent, stagnant with worry as the muffled sound of hospital hustle and bustle tinkled through the thin plaster walls. Most of the team had shifted positions on the couches, half-drunk paper cups of coffee littering the tables, some empty and others with dregs remaining, cold and still. It was as if the coffee reflected the forms of the team; cold and still, silent. There were no words needed; speech could break the teetering calm like a flame upon a sheet of ice, sending the waves of terror and worry reigning over their bodies and minds in unstoppable tsunamis.

Penelope sat alone on a couch, ringed fingers clutching a paper cup of rapidly cooling tea, sparkling eyes dull and saddened. Usually immaculate hair was askew, and trickles of mascara-streaked tears made tracks of soot grey on her rosy cheeks. Derek's seat had been vacated next to her, feet tucked up under her body as her left hand idly picked at the fabric of her top.

Emily had migrated from the corner of the room to sit by JJ, the two women sitting together on the settee by the door. The blonde's eyes were staring off into the distance, lost in thought, clear blue irises dull, redness underneath her eyes from sobbing. Emily had her arm around JJ's, her expression equally unmoving, features seemingly locked in an eternal poker face, piercing as usual but lacking bite. In worrying situations, she seemed to shut down, almost a statue carved out of pale ivory with raven hair, falling messily down to her shoulders.

Hotch and Rossi were silent too, perched on hard, plastic chairs despite the fact that the room was filled with sofas. Their eyes locked for a split second before wandering away again, as if they were picking out the individual specks of paint on the walls, every imperfection and speck of dust in the room gathering their utmost attention. As they met, they seemed to scream at each other, a sudden desperation as their teammate and friend (perhaps more) slipped away in front of their eyes.

_Helpless. _

Hotch hated this feeling. Loathed it, more than anything. The same sinking feeling he had when Hayley was killed by Foyet, the feeling that he couldn't do anything as the ones he loved were put into danger. But with Foyet, he could get revenge on him, take out his vengeance on someone else. Reid however...his battle was against himself. He was hurting himself, and in order for him to stop Hotch would have to fight him to get the demons away from his mind.

But Hotch didn't know.

He didn't know that the demons had already made a home inside the man's body. He was Spencer but he wasn't; a demon living in his body, in a sense, driven by his anguish and feeding on his agony, slowly but surely driving the 'good' part of him away, perhaps never to be seen again.

_Helpless… _


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: I don't own the characters, or I'd never have let Emily leave. And, thank you once again for reading and reviewing and fav/following; it really does mean a lot to me. **

**In terms of my hiatus, it's been a hectic and busy time to say the least. I'm not going to go into too many details (its a rather touchy subject for me, to be honest), but for the past several months, I've been in an awful place in life, and couldn't handle writing. It was rough, but now it's all okay again. I'm back to writing now (yey!) and I will be sure to update this fic and any others I'm working on as soon as I can, regardless of coursework. I'd also like to thank the lovely people who still followed/reviewed; I saw them and they really brightened up my day and I still go over them when I'm feeling rather shitty and they're absolutely lovely. So thank you so, so much, and I'm forever grateful for your support. **

**Reviews really do help keep a writer going; if you enjoyed a fic, any fic, drop a note to the writer. It's awesome! **

~FANFICTION~

It seemed as if eternities had gone by to the genius, waves of sleep and hazy brightness, cartwheeling vision and heart monitors flashing across his eyes. The familiar sterile scent of the hospital room seemed to have found a home in his nasal cavity, the incessant beep of the machinery keeping him tethered to this world never ending.

And he was sick and tired of it.

All of it. The needle that didn't deliver the rush of confusion and happiness, the stubborn wills of the doctors trying to keep him alive stronger than his, keep him away from the woman he loved, keep him away from the place where he could know peace. Sick of the thoughts, the voices that screamed abuse in his ears, twenty four hours a day, seven days a week. Sleep didn't come easily to the genius, even with the sedatives (albeit mild) that he was on, instead preferring to fake unconsciousness to avoid communication. The team had visited, for short periods of time after Morgan for several days, but upon him showing no sign of hearing them (unbeknownst to him, the doctors had indeed informed Hotch that he had awakened), they returned to the BAU. Perhaps another factor in their leave was the fact that their little unorthodox 'holiday' had run out, but Reid didn't know that.

He couldn't leave, much as he wanted to, or at least a part of him did anyway. His condition was supposedly 'fragile' and he was 'a danger to himself', according to the doctors and nurses who spoke to him in the hushed, condescending tones, as if he were a mere child. Bullshit.

Hell, in the hospital, there seemed to be no sense of time at all. Days melted into nights, shifting into weeks even, if he knew. In a place where the corridors were always lit and the sounds of doctors working, there was no daytime and nighttime, only a constant state in between the two. It was as if the hospital had left the physical world and held itself suspended between another dimension, one where time was nonexistent. He didn't know how much time had gone by, for there was no time anymore, at least a physical time at least. He knew that days had gone by at least, by the sounds and patterns of the movement outside the thin, plaster walls (his mind stubbornly insisted on functioning) and nights too, but no numbers. Just floating, the beeping of the heart monitor echoing hollowly in his ears, the sight of Maeve's body falling backwards in slow motion, her long brown hair thrown in front of her face in a messy halo as the silent scream echoing, no matter how much he willed it away. Her face, frozen in the bemused shock, fear and terror seemed to be burned into his retinas, playing in slow motion every time his eyelids closed.

_Maeve… _

_Darkness. _

_Emptiness. _

_No sense of time… _

~FANFICTION~

The bullpen seemed empty and hollow without the genius, void of his usual caffeine fuelled jabbering about physics magic and chess the others pretended to hate.

JJ was aware of the eerie silence in the bullpen as she navigated through the sea that was the office, occasionally dropping a file on a desk, not unlike a ship docking at an island. One for Rossi, one for Emily, one for Morgan, one for- never mind, she thought sadly as she stopped by Reid's desk, her finger idly flicking through the file that she had laid upon his desk by pure instinct. A sad sigh slipped through her parted lips as she shook her head, picking up the rest of the files as she knocked on Hotch's door.

"File delivery," she said, knocking thrice upon the hardwood door, waiting a moment before she entered, the sound of her heels clicking muffled by the carpet. Hotch wasn't seated at his desk, but standing adjacent to her, his brow furrowed. His eyes were closed, left hand massaging his temple as his other hand held onto the shelf for support. His face was ashen, strained; more lines were etched in his face than ever before. Tired, he was, and worried. All of them were.

"Are you alright?" JJ inquired gently, stepping over to Hotch when he gave no response. "Hotch?"

"Oh...sorry JJ." Hotch's voice was strained as he spoke, finally shifting from his position as he accepted the file. No more was said for a moment as he read, though the media liaison knew that the case itself was the last thing upon his mind.

"Oh...yeah. I'm just a little worried about Reid, that's all, but we have to focus on the case at hand." His voice returned to his usual stoic deadpan, moving over to sit behind his desk. JJ took this as her cue to leave, silently dropping off the rest of the files before heading back to her own office, presumably to read over and familiarise herself with the details but to no avail. She sighed as she rested her head in her hands, peeking at the clock as she composed herself. Thirty minutes till the briefing, she mused to herself as she focused upon the gruesome images once more.

"JJ?" The sound of a quiet voice was heard at her door, once bubbly and bright but now a shadow of its former self. Pulled out of her reverie, the blonde woman rose from her seat, dodging the perilous mountain of files as she moved across the room to the figure at the door.

"Hey, Pen." JJ's tone was optimistic, but the smile didn't meet her eyes fully as it usually did, ending at the edges of her soft pink lips.

"Thanks for the file, J." Penelope spoke a few moments later, rubbing her lip with her hand as she did. She looked rather distraught, but was hiding it rather well behind a curtain of impassiveness. It would have worked, but the hacker was usually far too bubbly, and anything shy of her usual hyperactivity would point to something being awry.

"No problem." JJ's smile faded off her face as she spoke. "How're you doing?" she inquired, an unsaid invitation to vent if need be, the nonverbal cue easily interpreted by the profilers and those who worked alongside them. She stepped aside to allow Penelope in if she cared to enter, giving the two a bit of privacy.

"I'm...I'm okay." Pause. "I think."

JJ frowned at the woman, knowing she was fighting off one of her usual rants. "Pen, spit it out. You'll feel better."

Penelope muttered under her breath as she stepped into the office, sitting down on the spare seat as JJ shut the door.

"Oh hell, J. I'm just worried about the genius, that's all. I mean...how didn't we see it? And...and the way he was acting at the hospital it was so...scary, J. I know the medical prognosis is okay, but...but...I'm just so scared. I can't focus. Last time we were there, he completely freaked out and really hurt himself and I...I...I just…" Her voice hitched in her throat as she shook her head.

"I don't know anymore. It's so different without him…so serious and I just...I miss him, JJ. I really do. It's been ages since we heard from him, or the hospital and..I'm scared." Tears glistened behind her glasses as she spoke, rambling a little.

"I...I'm sorry for bothering you, JJ. I know we all have a lot of work to do but...I just didn't want to be alone." Her voice was raw at the very end, a tremulous whisper. The smaller blonde pressed her hand to her forehead for a moment before she walked over to Penelope, placing her arms around her in a gentle but quick hug. She was rather surprised as Penelope's grip tightened around hers, clutching her tightly, as if she were her lifeline.

"Garcia. Never apologise for your feelings, okay?" she said, once the analyst had let go. "We're all worried, we're all scared. Its different without him, yes, but we have to stick together. We'll get through this, Pen." Penelope offered a watery smile as JJ glanced up at the clock.

"Come on. We have a briefing to get to."

~FANFICTION~

Days had passed since Reid was first admitted to the hospital, or maybe it was weeks. The same beeping of the heart monitor and the lights that never turned off had eliminated all sense of time, in tandem with the death of his cell phone many a day ago. He hadn't bothered to charge it, for shame filled him every time his broken gaze flickered over to the muted technology. It felt like ages to him, but in reality it was merely little more than a week or so, eight days and seven hours to be exact.

"Mr-Doctor Reid?" A voice broke the quiet of his room, as it did every now and then. Every few hours, a nurse would come and check his vitals, or deliver meals, the latter usually left uneaten or minimally so. Other than that and the occasional queries from the doctor, Amelia Donnelly, about his wellbeing, he was uninterrupted. On this occasion, it was the good doctor herself, walking into the room with the usual click of her heels upon the linoleum floor. He simply looked at her apathetically as she bustled about, showing no visible signs of recognition.

"Hello, Dr. Reid." Amelia said with a chipper smile, already knowing the response. Silence.

"How are we doing today, mm?" she inquired, reaching over with a small 'oof' as she picked up the chart hanging from the foot of his bed, scribbling in it with her miniscule writing. "Good good. Everything's stabilising, and you should be all right for discharge in a day or two. I just want to keep you here for further monitoring."

At that, Reid blinked. Discharge?

"Discharge...in a day...or two?" he asked, his tone slightly shaky as he lifted a hand to his brow, furrowing it as he spoke. "So...I'm ready to go?"

Amelia nodded. "Yes, you are. The worst of the dilaudid's effects and detoxification has passed, and physically, your health is better." She held up her hand sternly, however. "Better doesn't mean good necessarily, Dr. Reid."

"It...doesn't?"

"No. Your health is still poor, and extremely so." Pause. "You're underweight for your height, and the effects of sleep deprivation, caffeine dependence and opioid addiction have wreaked havoc upon your health."

Reid would merely glower at that statement, looking rather eldritch with his hollowed cheeks, ashen skin and dark circles ringing his eyes.

"However. Your discharge has certain conditions, otherwise I'll speak to your supervisor and get you pulled off your job and put on leave." A dangerous glint formed in the woman's deep eyes as she cast her piercing stare at Reid.

"Conditions? Like what?" His tone was rather sharp.

"Well, for starters, you'll have to go to therapy twice a week…"

_Therapy?!_

Reid flinched at that, his body recoiling visibly, an expression of shock, distaste and disdain upon his hallowed visage. "Excuse me?"

Amelia wasn't fazed by his reaction and sudden ferocity, sharp tone falling upon deaf ears. Or rather, she was already immune to this sort of behaviour and merely rolled her eyes to herself.

"Yes. Therapy, twice a week or more, if I deem it necessary." Her tone was chipper as she spoke, a smile on her face as she picked up the clipboard once more and wrote a few notes. "Those sessions will be confidential, of course. However, the therapist will send notes to me every now and then to inform me of how you're doing."

Spencer frowned, crossing his arms. He was not happy about this at all, no. "What if I don't want to do therapy?" he questioned, struggling to keep his tone even. He had already shown far too much emotion as of late and that was just...unacceptable.

"Well." Amelia seemed prepared for his trepidation, for her voice was laced with a hint of amusement as she next spoke. "Agent Hotchner, under my advice, has removed you from the line of active duty on the basis of a psychiatric withholdment. In order for you to return, you have to get the okay from your therapist and myself, your doctor. I won't give you the okay until I'm sure you will be. Which incidentally, encompasses therapy for a few weeks, maybe months. It all depends on how willing you are to work on your issues, Dr. Reid. If that's all?"

_Great. _

_Just fucking great. _

Spencer could only sigh in resignation as Amelia grinned at him, folding his thin arms around his chest even tighter than he had before. He watched, glaring unobtrusively, as she signed the form on the clipboard with a flourish, clicking it shut before heading out of the room, leaving him to his thoughts.


End file.
